It's been marryin' time at Queensberry these last few months. Off the top of my head there's been Danny, Nigel, Akshay, Chetan, Gino and, for the girls, Anna. One of the first family occasions I can remember with Heather was my Mum and Dad's 25th anniversary. And now, as of today, we've been married forty-three years ourselves. Good grief. 1968 was one year on from the summer of love: a time as now of terrorism, tumult and war. Even earthquakes. Unrest to say the least of it in America, France and many places else. Vietnam, the Prague Spring, the Civil Rights Act, the assassination of MLK and RFK. This morning Heather reminded me we got married on the day of the My Lai massacre. But those are not my most abiding memories of 1968, nor should they be. Those events are history and our marriage is not. I was and am a happy camper. 1968 was our hippy Men Of The Fields period. We didn't invent love and sex or even rock'n'roll, but it did feel like it. Even in mono the music was great. Congratulations to the newbies. I hope your marriage works out as well as mine. Cheers, Ian PS Heather this is a way of telling you I love you. There will be flowers.